... - - '„ ' - • . - . . . . - . - . _ - . . , ... --..-- - - . . . _ ._ . . ~. . .. ..... '. • ' (I--:- ,f• . . - . - ( ICfmLll ....-. .. . _.,•. • .... .. ~. i a . - • . . ...... , .. 2. . . . _........ .. . 13.: 1 011711r. :WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. %.V.OLUAE X.-XX,-NUMBER 16.] PUBLISHED EYRRY SATURDAY DIORNING 'O fidein.-CarpeeHall, North.orestconier of Lrestat and Locust streets. . • Terms of Subscription. retre.Copyperanattta,if Nikita advance, • • •-• ••• • - if not 'paid within three mtatoathafromeemmeneenteniofthe year, 200 4 :7,esa.tssa a.Gopp, o sibectripilonteceived for a lees time than six Rnoitthe; and no paper wilt be dkeantinued until all aarrearagesate paid, anieeeet The optionof the pub iv her. _ (17 - Moneymay bee e mitiedby mail anhepublish el.'s risk. ' Rates of Advertising. k seuart [0 lines) one week, •• three weeks, - • _ each •übsequeminsertion, 10 [l.2:ines] one week. 50 - three weeks, I'oo '4l - each wbeequentinsertlon. 25 T. argerndvertisemenuin proportion. A liberaldiseouni will be made to quarterly,fialf earlyoryenrlysdvertlsers,who are Mkt') confined o their business. DR. HOFFER, DNTIST,OFFICE, Front Street 4th door from Locust. over Saylor & McDonald's Hook store Colombia, Pa. fErEntrance, between the Book and Dr. Herr's Drug store. [august al, 1858 THOMAS WELSH, THSTICE OF THE PEACE, Columbia, Pa. OFFICE, in Whipper's New Building, below .11E thick's lintel, Front street, 'Prompt attention given to oil business entreated It, his Care. November 28, 1857. DR. G. W. MIFFLIN, nENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above the Odd Fellow.' Hull, Columbia. Pa. Colombia. Ploy 3. 1858. H. M. NORTH, A TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW Cl Columbi a. Pa. Collemmae.p romptly made.i n Lancaste rand WO jountiea. Columbia. May 4,1850. J. W. FISHER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, 4=7cauxmlcrier. COtUmblit, Scpicenber 6, 1N56 tf C. D. HOTTENSTEIN, M. D., QUKCON AND PDYSICIAN, Coltunbia, Office in die rooms lately occupied by Dr. L. S Filbert. Alny 14, 1859.11. S. Atlee Backing, D. D. S. PRACIICES the Operative, Surgical and Mechan• lent Departments of Dentistry. Oartca Locu•t9treel,betweentheFrankliniiouse and Poet Office, Columbia, Pa :Slay 7 1859. :QU A AKER CORN.-- fresh lot of Shaker kJ Corn, for Pule by IFIRVRY guyDAM. N0v.13. MEL Corner Fr oat tree 11. GEORGE J. SMUT'', WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake • Baker.—Constantly on hand a. variety of Cakes, sx, numerous to mention; Craeltem; Soda, Wine, Scroll : sad Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description, &e., i.e. •LO' UST &mum', Feb. 2,'56. Between the Bank — and Franklin House. --___- ----... ----- -- - Y le-UST received, three dozen . Dr. Brunon's Vegetable Biters. a certain cure for Dyspepsia: a so , afresh lot of 'sap Sago and Pine Apple Cheese, Farina and Corn Starch, at D. HERR'S Sept :4 15.17. Grocary and Liquor Store. TIIST RECEIVED, a beautiful assortment of Gia•, Ink :itundo, nI the Jleuthmarters and Nowa Depot. Columbia, April IR, 1857. CHEWING TOBACCO. AT fIENRF PFAffIoRIVA, Locust street. opPo.ke the Franklin lioti‘e. CUR he had CUBA LEAF. COS:- RE.:34., and seventl other broad• of the best Chewing Tobacco. to which the attention of chewers is invited. May 1, lltirow il rigo Luin'A, nloo, it n's Moo le I.lm ruetr, for the huthikerehief, et HARRY fiIIEr.IVS. Oppogite Colo. Bridge. Front St. Feb. ID. ,M BAGLEY'S GOLD PENS FRESH lot of lot A. G. Bagley's Gold Pcns, or different sizus and prices Just received, ut SAYLOR & McDONALD'S, Ilend gunners and News Depot. Front street, Sec nod door above Locust. March 27.1 W '.---1110 rooms, at &sale 9 or Retail. at PFA Dre' 14. In 7 - I.nelt.t Pireet. PlNE'SCherry Compo und inuml for of Syrup of cure Tar, Wil h d kJ and lluarl, the of Cougti. Colds, Whooping COUgh. Oroup.&c. For ante at fiIeCORKL.Ki DRI.f.EIPS Family Medicine Store. Odd Fellows , Hull October 23. latid Patent Stearn Wash Boilers. rrui MSS well known !Jailers are ►apt ennsin nay on band at !JIMMY 1.F.1 II LER , S, Locust street. opposite the Franklin !loose. Columbia. July 18, 1;337. ots for sale by the bushel or larger qua iling hy B. F. A P VOLD, Columb is Deo 25, 1959. Canal Basin. VIIBS and Superfine Flour, Buckwheat Flour Corn Menu. find whole Corn. and ai Corner of Third and Limon streets. [Jun. THORN'S Extract of Copnibn and So maparitta, for .ole at the Golden Mortar Drug Store. • • March 27. IBM. • 1OB&CCO and Segall of the best brands, whaletate and resod, at Stove 'oho , ASUPERIOR article of Stove 1'011.14 that requires less labor, sod produces a polish unattained by "y other.' . .. For sale at the Golden Mortar Drug Store, Trout st. asst. 24,1859 lUST iri more, n keel' lot of Breinig x Pronfield's celebrated Vegetu'de Cattle Powder. and for so S le by -- 11.1,1 A M, Front street, Columbia. l=;1 Soap. e, Boxes of Duffey Brown Sono on _hand and for Zi) sale liwrid the corner of Third and Union Sts. August 8,1839. JUST Received another beau:offl of of Vanilla Beans, at J. ugi a .usraccvs Golden :tlortnr Ettore.rront Atreet. Buffer' no longer with Corns. A' T the Golden Mortar Drug !.tore you MI procure P article which is warranted to remove Corns in 4 hours, without pain or soreness.. - Ply Paper. • qtrregfrEll article or Fir Paper. For the dentroet. „rt. * lion or Piles, to., ha. itt4. been received at the Store of R WILMA:US. Front greet. Colombia. /OJT 30. 1839 . Harrison's Columbian Lik. VIVIIC it ix a loperinr article. permanently blmek. add-not 'eotrottins tbe pen, e 2.1 be had in WI% quantity'y.~ let ibelPatuilyVedietne More, and blacker :vattamitset Path. , Celombia, Sane 0," 1859 012 TIT; IfiItS.NINSLOW'S Sloodoug Syrup. which win -Likictesfly laciHtste the process of teettong by se doubts. fodionation. oneying prin. •pasinorloc action, 44., in VerY.Sloon 0113 C. For .at by .ft. WILLTAUF, ..Front ogroot,„Cotombla. I . R - • E 1 N V This 0 S flusgia Salve! ex weave* popular remedy tot the wire Of external ailments hl novr for vale n 7 Et. WILLIAMS-Front et, Columbia. peps. 24, less? raMIIIIROWERS can carry on their bud- VI stoma Meet smeeessfatty at Hammonton. free from frosts., Some (any viiteyard , met out the past season.. See advertisement of , flammonton Lands. another column. PEIMINS, wanting Change of climate for health threiadvettiaentent ilanitnostos Lends hohisart.;, Petty % hisq.esti, glitttitots. $1 50 Nothing could have happened more op portunely. I was sitting alone in the study, trying fifty different ways to solve that most perplexing problem, "how to make two ends meet," when a letter was put into my hand, which threw a brilliant and unexpected light on my path. I was wearing myself out. The entire charge of a widely scattered flock in a rural parish in England, the care of a young and increasing family, with a delicate tenderly nurtured mother, whose education, as the youngest child of wealthy parents, but ill prepared her for the daily struggle with petty cares and anxieties which she strove to bear so cheerfully, and, above all, the training and tuition of tour riotous young rascals of from ten to twelve, whose minds and morals I was endeavoring to improve preparatory to their entering life at a public school, would be a severe ordeal to the stoutest health and strongest nerves, and I possessed neither. But what could I do? The result of all my calculations wont to prove that I could not afford to give much a salary to a tutor as would secure the services of a scholar and a gentleman, and to such only could I delegate the truMt committed to me, QM Before speaking of the contents of the im portant letter that prok ed so welcome an interruption to my perplexed musings, I must give a slight sketch of my vicarage, as some notion of its outward appearance and internal arrangement will be necessary to make my story comprehensible. It con sists chiefly of a square mass of red brick building, in the style prevalent in the days of the earlier Georges; and with its ruddy hue unsubdued by the lapse of a century. seems to blush for its own extreme hideous ness. Connected with this, at the time of which I write, about two years ago, was a fragment of a building of much earlier date, composed of lath and plaster, with strong transverse beams of oak, on one of which was carved a date considerably anterior to the Reformation. This ancient structure contained the room dignified by the name of the library, with the kitchen and other domestic offices on the ground floor, and above were several bed-chambers, occupied by servants, with the exception of one ever the library, which was kept vacant for the use of a guest. It was in the old library, ray haven of refuge, where I wrote my sermons, saw my parishioners when they came to me for advice or assistance, read, mused, and perhaps occasionally dozed, that I was sit ting, when old Nanny, the village post•wo man, who was familiar with the ways of the house, knocked unceremoniously at the the window and handed me the letter. It was from a young German, whose c.c. qunintance I formed during the time of the Great Exhibition in MI. He had been sent from Berlin in charms of some scientific instruments; and my good friend Dr. —, the astronomer, at whose house we met, was warm in praise of Hermann Schwarz, whose extremely prepossessing manner and appeannee were of themselves a recommen. dation. I short, a mutant liking sprang up between us; and when we parted, it aas with a cordial wish on both sides to meet I heard from him occasionally during the years which followed. Ife was engaged on a translation into German of some of the works of the earlier Lalio fathers, in which I took great interest, and he wrote now and then to report progress. But the letter I now held,in my hand was in a very differ ent strain. It contained an earnest, almost passionate appeal to me, to help the writer in finding any employment, any honest means of earning broad, which would en able him to leave Berlin, and come to Eng land. "You know something of me," it concluded, "dear and respected friend, you know I have some talent, some energy; I may be of some use in the world! Well, I will do anything; I will work with my hands, my head, my heart, so that I may earn a mouthful of bread in England, and leave forever my Germany, that once dear fatherland, where to remain longer will be madness fur me. Do not ask me to ex plain this change in my feelings; suffice it that I assure you I have dune nothing to forfeit your good opinion." There was much more to the same effect; and the whole letter was so incoherent, and differed so widely from the usual calm sententious ness of the writer, that I felt sure the mys tery was one to bo solved with the univer sal key, and was persuaded that a woman was et the bottom of it. BRII7VER'S This in no way interfered, hoverer, with We idea that at once suggested itself to my mind. Schwarz wits the very man I wanted. I could trust him perfectly; his singularly accurate knowledge of the English would enable him to carry on the studies of my pupils, and his companionship would be very agreeable to myself; while the great work of translation in which he was en gaged would progress rapidly under our united - auspices." I wrote to him at once, and received a jolts/Acceptance of my Fro pose's; and at tire end of a fortnight, be was an inmate of the vicarage, installed in the vacant chamber above the library, and entering heart and soul into his new duties, found him greatly changed, however. Ills intellect bad ripened; his moral and reli gious principles were, perhaps, even deeper and meraearnest; but there was a cloud of My German Tntor. "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING.". COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 19, 1859. profound inelancholy, - .a dark despairing helplessness in hie views"' of life; which seemed to approach the verge of insanity. I soon percieived, letierer, 'that any allusion to his state of mind aggravated- all its sym p tons, and only made Lim' shrink - -from .me; so, as he performed all his allotted duties with zeal and energy, I was content to let matters take their course, and refrained from all allusion to a secret which in no way concerned our mutual relation. Some months passed thus, and Hermann Schwarz was fully established in his posi tion as a member of our family, and win ning daily more of my esteem - and confi dence, when another guest arrived at the vicarage Easthwaite, the village in which I live, is situated on an extensive property belong ing to the Duke of —, who resides in a distant county; and, as the vicarage is the only place on the estate of higher pre tensions than a farmhouse, his Grace's steward is in the habit of coming here twice in the year, to collect the rents, and settle any business that requires attention. He came on this errand at Michaelmas last when Schwarz had been nearly a year in my family; and, as usual, the library was given up to him as a business room. When the greater part of the rents had been collected, Mr. received a summons to a distant part of the property, which would detain him till the next day; and, as thie had hap pened more than once before, I undertook the charge of the money till his return. We counted it together, and took the numbers of the notes, which amounted to upwards of £lOOO, besides about £2OO in gold and silver. It was deposited in a drawer of the library-table, of which Mr. took the key when he went away. lle had not been gone more than an hour or two, when I re ceived a telegram from my wife's father announcing the dangerous illness of her mother, and requiring our immediate pres ence. I own that this sudden intelligence, - and the distress of my dear wife, drove all thoughts of the Duke's rents from my mind; but I remembered them while giving some parting directions to Schwarz, and added: "When Mr. returns, Ifertnann, tell him I was sorry to desert my post in his absence, but that I left you in charge as my substitute." We had a long and anxious journey; but better news awaited us at the end of it, and after the fatigue of the day, I slept soundly- Early on the following morning, I received another telegram, containing these startling words; "Your house has been burned; come at once!" The terrible laconism of this message, leaving me in doubt as to the safety of almost all that was dear to me in the world, filled me with a sickening dread; but resolved to learn the truth at once, and unwilling to leave such a fearful weight of suspense on the mind of my wife, I simply told her that, finding our fears as to her mother's state relieved for the time, I thought it better to return home at once, as several matters required my attention, which had been neglected in our hurried departure. I found Schwarz waiting at the station; and in reply to the questions I had scarcely power to utter, he hastened to assure me that the children and all the inmates of the vicarage were safe, and that the damage was confined to the old portion of the house. '•The library and my room are burned," he said, "and the rest more or less injured; but the fire was soon got under, and the people from the village worked like giants; you should have seen how they worked for love of you." He wait very pale and ex cited, and his right hand was bound up, while he confessed to many other burns and bruises, though he made light of it all. I saw he was feverish and suffering, and in sisted on his g.ting to take somerest alsoon as we arrived. The first sight of the charred and defaced appearance of my happy, peaceful home affected me powerfully, and escaping from the chorus of anecdotes and explanations with which the children and pupils assailed me, I turned into a sidewalk in the garden tocomposo my thoughts. Suddenly I found myself face to face with Mr. —, the Duke's steward. and the thought of the large sum of money which had been depos ited in the library rushed into my mind for the first thee when I saw his pale and dis turbed countenance. I felt rather ashamed of owning my forgetfulness, as I inquired whether the money had been saved, though with little hope of hearing a satisfactory "Not one penny!" he exclaimed in an ex cited manner. ."Mr. Smith, this occurrence is a very grave one, for you, for. me. and all concerned; and I feel it my duty to tell you that I have telegraphed to London for a de tective. Mr. Schwarz was in a very excited state when I arrived, and tried to persuade me that the fire originated among n.quanti ty of papers which I tore and threw into the grate yesterday before leaving; but I re member perfectly watching theta burn; and they were entirely extinguished, and the fire was almost out before I left the house." "I have heard nothing as yet of the sup supposed origin of the fire." I remarked. "I did not like to question Schwarz seeing the state of fatigue and suffering he was in. and, to own the truth, the safety of the children was so great a blessing that I had scarcely realized it folly when I met you." "There is not much to he gleaned from the servants or the villagers," raid Mr. —. "I have spoken to most of those who helped to extinguish the flames, and all they know is, that the library was 'all of a blaze,' and Mr. Schwarz's room partially burned before the alarm was given. I have get two of the villagers to watch the ruins till the arrival of the detective from Lon don; yola will, I hope, excuse my having taken these measures on my own responsi bility, but I felt that I vas answerable to his Grace for the money that has been lost, and we may, at least, recover the gold and silver, though, unluckily, it forms a small portion of the sum." Of course I repeated my assurance that I considered him perfectly right to take any steps that seeme I to him advisable, and I then left him, feeling, in the perturbation of my mind at this sudden calamity, a need of solitude. By the mid-day train, Inspector Park ar rived at the vicarage, and the usual formal ities of an inquiry into the origin of the fire was entered into. The account given by the servants, who were first examined, agreed perfectly, and only went to establish the fact, that about three o'clock in the morning they were roused by Mr. Schwarz with the news that the house was on fire. The three women who slept in the rooms over the kitchen deposed that they had heard no noise before Mr. Schwarz knocked at their doors, and told them to rise, but not to be alarmed, as they were in no dan ger. Of course this assurance produced no effect, and as the kitchen maid remarked, "We just screeched right on till we got some clothes together arid out of the house." Then the cook went into hysterics, and re quired the attendance of both her compan ions; so the female part of the establishment was kept employed and out of the way. The I nurses and children, who occupied a part I of the more modern house, far removed from the scene of danger, were not even disturbed, and the pupils, roused by Mr. Schwarz, worked heartily under his orders, and seem to have considered the whole simply as a bonfire on a large scale, got up for their especial amusement and delectation. The men-servants, as well as all the people from the village who turned out to their assis tance spoke warmly of Mr. Schwarz's cool courage or composure. He would not oven attempt to save his own possessions in the room above that in which the fire originated; but one of the men, at some considerable risk to himself, entered it when the floor was already beginning to burn, and brought away all that ho could see on the tables. He was just leaving the room as it part or the floor fell in; the flames spread rapidly, and were only arrested by the thick brick wall of partition which contained the kitch• on chimney. By the dint of unremitting exertion, the fire was thus confined to the library and two rooms above it, but these were completely destroyed. The servants having finished their state ments, Inspector Park begged to see Mr. Schwarz. I told him that, by my desire, he had gone to take some rest, and I pro posed adjourning to hie room, in order to disturb him as little as possible. After some delay he admitted me; and writing materials on the table, together with ascot- 1 ed packet and a strong odor of burnt seal ing wax, showed that he had been otherwise occupied than in taking the rest which he so greatly needed, He was extremely pale, and kept his right band in a handkerchief which he bad put round his neck in a sling. When we were all three seated, (for Mr. —, the Steward, accompanied us,) Schwarz said, turning to Inspector Park: "I suppose you wish to bear my account of this accident; I have very little to tell you. It is my practice, as Mr. Smith knows, to write and study in my room till a late hour; I was thus occupied last night in one of the rooms which is now burned: and I was so deeply engaged. that I noticed noth ing to alarm me, till smoke began to ascend between the boards of the floor. This at tracted my attention, and I went below and found the library in flames. This is all I can tell you." "Did you give the alarm at once on dis covering the fire?" asked the inspector. "No. My first thought was for some val uable books, which wore in a book-case near the door; I removed these at once, and then roused the servants!, ••Why did you do this? Would it not have been better to have gut assistance at once?" Schwarz shrugged his shoulders. "Can a man account for all his impulses? I thought first of the danger of these books; which, ns Mr. Smith will tell you, coeld scarcely have been replaced for money; when they were safe, my thoughts turned in the direction they should perhaps have taken at first. I did what- I did for the best." "I am, sure of that," I said warmly; for I could not but be touched at'his ,Pare fur the books; a few rare editions which be knew valued highly; and I cut Short, rather un oerenaimiously, some remark of Mr. which I thought was intended to csetblame on my friend Schwarz for not remembering the money in the library - table; -The inspector asked a few more questions. and then rose, saying that he must examine the ruin! before returning to London, which he was anxious to do by the evening train. We found some men still occupied, by Mr. -'s orders, in throwing water on the de brie, to enable him to make a search for the gold and silver; end made oar vrararitli some difficulty aver charred And emokia; heaps, and among pools ofwater, to the scene of the men's operations. , I watched with interest the shaip glances with which Inspector . Park examined every object, and was struck with a sudden gleam of experience, as his eyes fell on a part of the room where the hearthstone yet remain ed in its place. lie beckoned to me by an almost imperceptible sign, and pointed downwards. I noticed that a portion of the boards near the hearthstone were still onconsumed, and the grate appeared in the same state as I had left it. "The fire did not begin here," the in spector said in a whisper. Suddenly he stopped and picked up some small object. "What is that?" I inquired anxiously, for a something in his manner caused me to think he had made an important discovery. lie did not answer at first, but stooped again; and then said, in a low voice: "Mr. Smith, I should like to speak to you alone, if you please." I led the way to the garden, but he did not open his lips till we reached an arbor at a little distance from the house. Then he stopped; and looking carefully round, he said, coming close to me, and speaking very "That fire's been the work of an incen diary." "Impossible!" I exclaimed. "True, for all that," be an veered, com posedly; "and here's the evidence." lie drew three small colored sticks from his pocket, apparently the remains of some kind of match, but unlike any in the house. "You observed, sir," be continued, "that the fire had not touched the grate; conse quently, it cannot possibly have originated there. I found them matches among the ashes in the fireplace; they were thrown there after the fire was out, consequently, again, they must haco been used -to light summat elset and that summat was the fire as burned the rooms." "But who could have done it?" "I can tell ye that, too," said the man, a pleased consciousness of his acuteness con tending strangely with the grave look of one about to make a serious charge, which he will be required to prove: "it were the Ger man gent up stairs!" "Oh, no, no!" said I in haste. would as soon believe that I did it myself." "Them matches," continued Park, now fairly mounted on his professional hobby, and disregarding my interruption—"them matches is of foreign make, I've seen the like of them often before; and the gent up stairs lighted his candle with such a one not a quarter of an hour ago." "How can you tell that?" "Saw them on the table," he replied quickly; "one on 'em is lying beside the candlestick, and one that had dropped—a green one, I think—is on the carpet, close to the foot of the table." "But that is no proof that he did it," I said, impatiently, fur the man's air of quiet conviction was too much to bear. "Remem ber that this is a very serious charge in deed; how can you tell, even supposing the fire to have been anything but accidental, that some other person may not be guilty." "In course, that is possible, but I've been running the facts over in my mind, and there's enough against this gent to warrant my taking him into custody on suspicion." "That is really dreadful," I said, in great distress. "Surely you muse require some thing stronger in the way of proof before taking such a step.". "Circumstantial evidence," ho said, em phasizing each syllable of the words, is mostly all we has to go on in such like cases; but it is very seldom that it deceives ns; generally, facts come out on examination that strengthen the case. Things like them," looking at the matches he still held in his hand, and which he now folded care fully in paper, and placed in his pocket book—"things like them generally tells truth, and is often more to be depended on than witnesses; you can't prevent them from speaking out." I felt sick at heart. There is something in the accent of conviction that carries its own impression with irresistible force to the mind, and I felt that this man, expert - as I knew him to bo in unraveling many a,tan glad web of mystery and crime, firmly be lieved himself to, have discovered the truth. Still, I would not abandon all hope, and re quested permission to have some conversa tion with Schwarz -before these dark suspi cions were made-known to him, in the hope that ho might be able to accountin.some satisfactory manner, for, the discovery of the matches. After some hesitation, and upon my promising to communicate the result of our conversation at once to him, the inspec tor consented to my seeing Schwarz alone. With a beavy.heart I went to his room, and found him still seated in the arm chair where we had. left.him. I noticed that he, hurriedly replaced his, right hand in its sling as lentered, making an excuse for my intruding by asking him what had become of the pupils, as I bad not seen them since morning. pi - "I gave them leave to• go Horsley Copse.' - ' he said. "You remember they were to be allowed a holiday t gather outs; and as we could havedone nothing to-day, I thought it would economize their time." • - "True,".l remarked; and then canto an awkward pause. I looked on the table, and there lay a match, the precise fellow of- one of those found_ by, the .inspector; and near the leg of the table, I anwthe green one on the ground. 4 sighed, $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE. "My kind friend," Hermann said affec tionately; "some weight is on your. mind; what is it?" "Do you mind recapitulating to me ex actly how you passed the day yesterday, flermann?" "Certainly not. After you left home, I went to the library, and locked the door, and put the key in my pocket. Then the boys and I took our usual walk, and had tea, and went through our evening studies. When they went to bed, I retired to my room, and was occupied in my translation till alarmed by the fire." "And you did not write or seal letters in the library, or light a candle there after went away?" "I did not-", "This box of matches is yours, I suppose?" I took up one I saw on the table, and, open ing it, found a number of matches with c.. - °rad sticks. I looked at Schwarz as I spoke, and it seemed to me that a sort of spasm passed over his face he clenched the hand he held in its silken sling. •'They are mine." "Hermann, a very unpleasnnt circum stance Iris occurred; some matches precisely like these have been irr the ruins be low, and a painful conjecture has been formed in consequence." "You mean that I am suspected of having caused the fire?" His voice was so hollow, so unlike itself, that r looked anxiously at him; there was a strange wild determination in the gaze with which he met mine. "It is quite true; I did so." "Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, starting up, "you are mad!" Ire remained quietly seated, and a sad . sm,le passed over his frame, "Not now; it did not last lung; but time enough to work much mischief. I should like to till you my story before you give me up to justice." I sat down again without a word; it seemed to me that I must be dreaming. Ire continued quite calmly, as if speaking on some every-day matter. "I ought to have told you, when laccepted your friendly offer, made so warmly and generously, that I was a changed being from the Hermann Schwarz you knew some years ago. I feel now that I have not acted loyally towards you; but the temptation of your offer was too great, like the other temptation to which I yielded yesterday. The devil has been growing in me, and he is now very strong. Soon I shall no longer be able to wrestle with him, in the mean time, I must tell you my story." "I have always been poor, but I never felt my poverty. Since my parents died, I have been; able by exerting the faculties whichaxl gave mo,to make my brain support my body, and I required no more. I had one kind friend, my godfather, Hermann Rudiger, the great bookseller at Berlin, for him I worked cheerfully many years, trans lating, revising and correcting books en trusted to him for publication. Ile it was who first suggested to me a course of study l i with a view to the translations on which am now occupied; and I pursued this course with ardor, f,r a new motive added tenfold strength to my exertions." llere he paused and passed his baud across his brow. his voice faltered a little as he resumed. I "I saw her very rarely. It was Sophie, Rudiger's only daughter. I do not know how it happened that I loved her, wor shipped her, so that the least glimpse of her face, the very touch of her dress, as she passed me, made me tremble with a joy that was almost suffering. I du not know either how she found it out, or how I first began to think it possible that she—she— might love me too. All this happened in the time past, and there seems a fathomless gulf betwen then and now. But I do re member the day on which we spoke of love; it was under the limo -tress, on the evening of the king's fete, when there were fire works and illuminations in the town. There was a crowd of people, and we were sepa rated from her parents; and when I asked her if she was frightened, she looked up, and said:—"not with you." Then I found words to tell her how I lured her, and she listened; and we forgot the crowd, and her parents, and all but the wide paradise of love in which we two seemed to stand alone, hand in hand. But Frau Rudiger came up, and scolded Sophie fur leaving her, and the dream was over. The next day, I took courage, and went boldly to her father, and told him all, he listened without speaking; and when at last I asked if he would give me any hope that in time, when I could support a wife, Sophie might be mine.— ' Ile answered verj quietly: "Listen, Her man, Sophie is my only child. She will possess, at my death, all that I have in the world; and her mother and I are agreed that we will not interfere with her choice of a husband, provided he Lea worthy man, ' and can bring proofs of honesty and indus try. Now at your age, I had made five thousand dialers; when you have made as much, come back and speak to me again on this subject, and I will listen to you. Now this was like my death warrant. how could I make five thousand thalera; when all the work of my life was only sufficient to keep me alive? I looked as him, and saw he was laughing. "0, my God, Herr Re diger." I cried, "do not jest with mel You know you might as well ask me fur a crown for Sophie. Let me work for you as I have done, and when my translation is finished, I give me nothing for it but Sophie." [WHOLE NUMBER 1,516. He started np when I said this, and raged and stormed; accused me of ingratitude, deception, audacity, I know not how many crimes, and turned me from the door. That evening I received from him- a small bal ance of money that ho owed me, together with a letter of introduction to a bookseller at Vienna, and u few sharp sarcastic words; recommending me to change the air, for that decidedly that of Berlin did not agree with my health. I believe, when I read these lines, the devil entered into me, and has never left me since. I tore his letter into a thousand pieces, as he had torn the hopes, the aim, the object of my life, into useless fragments; but since he cast me off, I resolved to show him I was at least free to come or go as I pleased. Instead of leav ing Berlin I beset Herr Budiger's house by day and night, hoping to catch a look or a word from Sophie; but I never saw her again. At last, Lisa, the cook, taking pity on my despair, told me that Frau Rudiger had gone with her to the country, I know not where; that Sophie had ericd very much. and was ill when she wont away, but that she, Lisa, beard nothing said about their return. It, was then that I wrote to you; the devil was so busy in my heart and brain that I felt I should go mad if I stayed in Berlin; and I had no friend, no hope, - no means of living elsewhere. Your kind let ter, the delicacy with which you avoided all inquiry into the cause of my sorrow, and , the friendly goodness of your proposals seemed like a new life to me; and fora time; in the interest awakened by my occupation here, and the pleasure of feeling that I was useful to you, my kind friend, I almost for got my grief, and tried to hope. But by and by the thought of Sophie and our eter nal separation revived, and the devil woke , up again within me. What I have suffered, how I have struggled, none can ever tell, and it has been in vain, it is useless to talk of it, but, believe me, Smith, I never thought of a crime—l only strove to fight with my devil, and keep him down, so that he should not interfere with the duties I owed to you; and I should have done so but for that fatal money. And now I come to the only part of my story which you can care to hear. Last night, after the' boys had gone to bed, and while I was writing in my own room, the sudden thought came over me, that there in the room below, was all the money I wanted to gain Sophie, and be a happy man, lying in a drawer, with no one to defend it, and that I had only to put forth my hand and wake it mine. Now the devil rose stronger than ever; instead of being within me, I felt him by my side, showing the Sophie, as I saw her in the ono happy evening of my life, smiling and looking up in my face with a soft blush in her own. It would be her happiness I should make as well as my own, with this money, which belonged to one who would be just as well withclut it, and which would be life, and lore, and happiness to me. "I resisted long—l took out my pistol, and loaded it, and told the devil plainly that I would sooner shoot" myself than.do this thing. But he only laughed, and asked who would be the better fur that; and I felt that he would be the better for that; and I felt that ho would get my soul, and that was what he wanted; so I resolved to disap point hint. At last, however, he conquered., I went iu the library, and broke open tho. drawer, and took out all the notes. When. I saw the broken drawer, I wondered how I could have been so foolish, when the thing must be discovered at once; but the was prepared fur this too, and advised me to set lire to the room. This pleased me, for I thought that my room would burn also and then uo one would believe that I was guilty of such folly, for I did not think "of the wickedness at the time. So I removed your books, and then put tho broken chips of the drawer into a basket fall of torn pa.' pers, which stood under the table, and set fire to them. I remember now that I threw the watches into the grate, but if I; had thought about it at all at the time, I should. have felt sure that all would burn together,- a and no truces be left. So I stood anti, watched the tire till I was sure it was burn ing well, then I went up stairs, and sat in my room, and counted over tha banknotes. I put them in a parcel with a letter to a friend of mine, Johann Strauss, in Lon don, who is in a =reheat's office, and begged him to send them to Herr Itudiger : at Berlin. Than I began to write toßoltbiej but my brain whirled, and my eyes were dim, and I saw smoke stealing up thr ough the boards, and then I ran to the servants' . rooms, and gave the alarm of fire. It seems strange that from that moment till the tinny it was all over, nod Alr. arrived, and said we must telegraph to you; and, raced and swore about the Duke's money, ,I had forgotten all about the notes, and did net know or care whether they were - burned or not. however, when I came to-this room, I found my open desk, with the parcel lying upon it, and all the tiling+ that I had left upon the table. So, when I - went to the station to meet you, I took my letter to Strauss, and put in the post, bat after I had done this I could hot rest. The devil retied in me worse than ever; and when you sent me to take some repose, I sat down and wrote, first to Sophie, and then to yen, for r determined that you should know all OW I was gone." "And why did you not make your escape. at once?" I inquired, shudderitri,, for I saw that, mad-or not—and I firmly betiered he was mad—poor Schwarz must be ,a-ppre.,
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